Premiere Event 2: The Condemned
by JadeAndKate
Summary: The WWE's finest turn out in support of Stone Cold Steve Austin's movie, The Condemned. Just as silly as the last Premiere Event fic. Austin, Cena, HHH, HBK, Undertaker, Kane, Flair, etc.


ï»¿ "So, Mr. Jericho, after your extended leave of absence from the WWE, what brings you to the premiere of your coworker's new--"

Chris Jericho pushed his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, frowning disdainfully at the reporter in front of him. "Listen, Junior, you'd better check your fact sheet before you start asking stupid questions. My name is Moongoose McQueen, and I am a huge rock star, so don't waste my time with this 'Chris Jericho' business. I'm just taking a quick break from rocking out to catch this movie I hear this Steve Austin kid...that's his name, right? Austin? Isn't he a wrestler or something? Anyway, I heard he didn't suck. Much. In fact, I hear he's a big fan of..."

The rest of Jericho's response was drowned out by a loud and rapidly approaching buzzing. Before Jericho could turn around, a solid blow landed between his shoulder blades and sent him sprawling to the ground.

"Move!" the Undertaker announced belatedly, fighting to steady his shiny black Segway from the impact.

"You hit me, you assclown!" Jericho accused.

The Undertaker paused to frown down at his former coworker. "Who the hell are you?"

"His name's Chris Jericho," the reporter helpfully supplied.

"Moongoose McQueen," Jericho insisted bitterly, checking his shirt for damage.

"Never heard of them," the Undertaker stated calmly, revving the engine of his scooter twice before cruising up the handicapped ramp and into the theater.

"You used to work with him, you know," Kane noted, approaching him in the ticket line and nodding toward Jericho, still picking himself up off the pavement.

The Undertaker frowned at the Canadian again before turning around. "I am 84 years old. I used to work with a lot of people," he pointed out. "Maybe he should've paid his dues."

Kane chuckled to himself. "I can't believe you brought that damn scooter."

"It's not a 'scooter.' It's a Segway. The name is a pun. The salesman explained it to me. It was very comical."

"I'm sure it was," Kane snorted. "As comical as you zipping around on it looks?"

"You're just jealous that I'm faster than you now. I'll race you to the concession stand." Without waiting for an answer, he took off across the lobby.

"Hey! You stop that thing right now!" Steve Austin roared loudly enough to give the Undertaker pause. "Get back in line. I'm checking IDs."

"Excuse me?" The Undertaker raised an eyebrow.

Steve ignored him, holding the Sandman's driver's license next to his face and squinting at the picture. "So what did you say you did for a living?"

"I wrestle," Sandman explained patiently. "Steve, is this really necessary? It's a PG-13 movie. I'm clearly old enough to get in."

Steve looked at him suspiciously. "Are ya?"

"I'm old enough to bring these." Reaching into his baggy sweatpants, he pulled out a six-pack of Miller Lite.

"That, there, is a suspicious looking container. I'm gonna have to confiscate that. Take it in for questioning." Steve grabbed the six-pack and waved Sandman on in.

As Steve turned back to the line, Sandman reached into the other side of his sweatpants and pulled out a second six-pack.

"Hey!" A camouflaged John Cena popped up from behind a potted plant as Sandman walked by. As those in the lobby turned, John realized he'd brought attention to himself and slowly sank back behind the plant.

"What the hell was that?" HHH asked from his place in line.

"John Cena. He's a Marine," Shawn Michaels answered from behind him.

"OK. ID," Steve demanded, turning to the Undertaker.

"What? People don't check my ID. I am 214 years old!" the Undertaker exclaimed.

"Heh. You _are_ old," Steve chuckled.

Undertaker's eyes narrowed as he warningly revved his Segway.

Just then Ric Flair came bounding past the line. "Whoo! Let's kill the bitches!"

"Hey!" Steve yelled as he passed.

Ric froze momentarily before shouting, "It's the authorities!" and sprinting away.

"Get back here!" Steve chased Ric into the theater.

"Heh. I win," Undertaker said to himself as he maneuvered his Segway to the front of the concession stand line.

"Took you long enough," Kane complained as the Undertaker cut in front of him.

"You cheated. I win."

"_I_ cheated?" Kane asked with raised eyebrows.

"Yes. You told Steve to check my ID. You know as well as I that the checking of my identification for the purpose of verifying the legality of my age is preposterous," the Undertaker calmly explained. "Therefore, I win."

Kane rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "Whatever."

"Respect your elders," Undertaker advised before turning to the cashier. "I want a large combo and some Twizzlers."

"I like extra butter," Kane said.

"Well, then, put extra butter on your popcorn," the Undertaker answered, turning back to the cashier. "Extra butter."

"See, you'll share," Kane replied smugly.

"NO, I WILL _NOT_," the Undertaker stated emphatically. "You just reminded me that I enjoy extra butter on _my_ popcorn."

"Extra butter. Did you forget how I taught you to count calories?" HHH asked from behind Kane.

"A stankass like you is unable to teach the Lord of Darkness anything," Undertaker sniped as he placed his snacks in the basket attached to the back of his Segway before gliding off into the theater.

HHH turned to Shawn. "I still do not know what a stankass is."

"You are," Shawn replied.

"So, it's a good thing?" Hunter asked hopefully.

As HHH and Shawn debated the definition of 'stankass,' Kane realized the Undertaker had left without paying for his food. As the cashier looked at him expectantly, he sighed and paid for both of them, then followed the Undertaker into Screen 1.

* * *

"Now, see, Vince? What'd I tell ya about bringing all these sons-of-bitches to my movie?"

Vince McMahon sighed heavily, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. "It's a promotional appearance, Steve. Your coworkers are here in support of--"

"I don't give a damn what they're in support of," Austin insisted belligerently, popping the top of one of his confiscated Miller Lites. "I don't trust any of 'em. Kane and Taker are gonna eat all the good food, Helmsley and Michaels are already giggling like ten-year-old girls, and that Cena kid's running around hiding behind doors and making me nervous." He drained his beer, reaching for another as he leaned closer to Vince. "And just between you and me, I think Ric Flair's been tossing a few back, if you know what I mean."

"Flair's always like that, Steve. Look...do you think I could move a few rows back? I'm not certain these seats were reserved for us."

"I reserved 'em," Austin assured him. "I made a mental note of it, right here in my head. It says, 'Get Vince front and center for the movie, close enough he can see those fruity actors shit their pants when I start whooping ass.' See? I got you taken care of."

"Excellent," Vince responded faintly, surreptitiously making note of the exits.

All heads turned as the Undertaker's Segway sped down the main aisle, turning sharply and stopping directly in front of Vince.

"Move," the Undertaker told him.

"I'd be glad to," Vince responded cheerfully, rising to his feet. Austin caught his forearm, pulling him back into his chair. "Ow."

"He ain't going nowhere," Austin stated, glaring at the Undertaker.

Without breaking eye contact with Austin, the Undertaker hit the gas, ramming his Segway into Vince's knees.

"_OW!_" Vince roared. "That's it, you get off that thing right now."

"Uh...bite me?" the Lord of Darkness suggested. Kane snickered from behind him, nearly choking on a handful of popcorn.

Vince growled, "You sit down and behave like a decent human being or I'm going to make you walk every inch of every entrance from here on out. No motorcycles, no moving sidewalks, no hearses, no carts with vultures on them. Not even a unicycle."

The Undertaker frowned deeply, but obediently sat next to Vince. "Better not touch my popcorn," he muttered darkly to himself.

"Great," HHH complained from the back of the theater. "How are we supposed to see the movie with Undertaker's big fat head in the way?"

"Maybe it's better if we _don't_ see the movie," Shawn suggested.

"Point," HHH noted. He started to elaborate, but was interrupted by his cell phone. "Hello? Oh, hey, Steph, how's my princess?"

Shawn rolled his eyes, then noticed John Cena crawling towards him under the theater seats.

"But, honey, I don't know how to change them, either," HHH continued into the phone. "Can't you call someone who does? I don't know, in the white pages or something."

Shawn slid off his chair and into the floor, right in front of John Cena. "Hey," he greeted. "Why are you down here?"

"I'm on a mission."

Shawn nodded toward the bucket of popcorn in Cena's right hand. "A snack mission?"

"No!" Cena looked around suspiciously and lowered his voice. "It's the Undertaker's popcorn. He just set it down. He'll blame Kane for it."

"No, he won't, he'll just eat Kane's popcorn. Why do you want them to fight anyway?"

Cena stared at him intently. "Because this is Mission Ruin-Austin's-Movie-Premiere-Because-Everyone-Made-A-Catastrophe-Out-Of-Mine."

"You need to work on your mission names," Shawn told him. He looked up at Hunter.

"How about you hire someone who knows how to use the Internet, then tell them to hire someone who can change diapers?" HHH suggested into the phone.

Shawn sighed and turned back to Cena. "If I join your mission, can I wear the green makeup, too?"

* * *

"Best movie ever! Whoo!"

A few nearby movie-goers tried to shush the 16-time World Champion, but he was on a roll.

"I know it's only ten minutes into the thing, but look at all these people that are gonna die! Look! That guy there? Gonna die. So's that weird looking one. And the chick. I hope you shoot her in the face, Steve!"

"I'm gonna shoot _you_ in the face if ya don't stop talking over my damn movie!" Austin yelled back across the room.

Flair was unfazed. "It's just like this time with me and Steamboat," he continued. "And there was this broad who...you know, it's a long story, but it ends with Ricky punching her in the face. Ha! Good times."

"What the hell are you talking about, old man?" the Undertaker asked, turning around in his chair.

"Ricky Steamboat punching a bitch. Pay attention, rookie!"

The Undertaker growled under his breath. "I am _not_ a rookie!" he finally managed to sputter. "And Ricky Steamboat never 'punched a bitch.' "

"You weren't even there," Flair pointed out. "Maybe he punched bitches all the time."

"I've worked with Steamboat. There was no punching of bitches."

Flair snorted. "When did you ever work with Ricky Steamboat?"

"Decades ago. 1965." the Undertaker announced firmly.

"I worked with him in 1953," Flair countered.

"I was already a veteran in 1953."

"I had already come back from retirement in 1953. Twice."

"I invented the bodyslam."

"I won my first championship in Ancient Greece," Flair insisted.

Silence ensued as the Undertaker failed to think of a comeback. "Pay your dues," he finally stated, turning slowly back to the screen and reaching for his popcorn.

Kane's shoulders shook as he laughed quietly to himself. "Steve, that fight was so much better than your movie."

"_Hey!_" the Undertaker interrupted before Austin could argue. "Where is my popcorn?"

"You probably ate it," Kane told him.

"I didn't eat the bucket, did I?" the Undertaker retorted. Frowning momentarily in concentration, he added, "No, I'm pretty sure I didn't. Did you steal it?"

"Please. Just stop," Vince begged, hands over his eyes.

The Undertaker considered it momentarily. "No. _Who stole my popcorn_?"

"He did," Shawn Michaels noted absently from the aisle, waving a hand in John Cena's general direction as he frowned into Torrie Wilson's borrowed compact mirror. "Is the heart on the left a little lop-sided?" he asked the Diva, using his thumb to carefully wipe away some of his newly-applied camouflage paint.

"Shawn!" Cena stared at him in dismay.

"What?" Shawn replied, grabbing a handful of the Undertaker's popcorn. His eyes went wide as realization dawned. "_Oh_!" Hastily, he shoved the popcorn into Cena's hands. "Here. Sorry."

"Honey, I gotta go," HHH muttered into his phone as the Undertaker climbed onto his Segway. "I think Shawn's screwing people over again. Yeah, in the theater. No, screwing people _over_, Steph, not...you know. Habit, I guess."

Cena ducked just in time to avoid a clothesline from the Undertaker as he sped up the ramp, then dove onto the floor under the seats as the Deadman threw his Segway into reverse.

"Quit it!" Vince roared, jumping to his feet. "Cena, stop stealing people's food; Michaels, stop being such a douche; Kane, stop mocking the movie; Taker, stop..." he paused as a new thought occurred. "Would you like some popcorn?"

"I _had_ popcorn," the Undertaker pointed out, "until..."

"Yes, yes, I know. Would you like _more_ popcorn? Candy? Or even...how about a pizza?"

The Undertaker frowned suspiciously. "Pizza?"

"Vince," Austin interjected, "there ain't no place to get a pizza cooked this time of night around here. You're gonna miss my damn movie."

"And as tragic as that would be, I'm willing to make that sacrifice for the continued happiness and well-being of my Superstars. One moment, please." Vince couldn't suppress his smile as he darted out of the theater.

"Dammit, Vince!" Austin yelled, chasing after him.

"Yes!" Kane exclaimed happily. "Now that he's gone, we can have a special showing of 'See No Evil,' right? Right?"


End file.
